It's Always Sunny in Naples
by toomuchfreetime400
Summary: Part 5 characters with "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" style. The gang gets themselves into wacky situations and acts generally like pretty terrible people.
1. Chapter 1

It's Always Sunny in Naples

"The gang gets a new member"

"Why did you give the car to Abbachio? You know he'd never come to pick us up?"

"Abbachio had something come up. He said he wish he could come."

"He's probably drunk, and your phone call woke him up," Mista mumbled. Bruno glared at him and opened his mouth to probably start lecturing. "Okay, let's work on getting a cab I guess."

They walked past the pay phone in the airport and stepped outside to see a line of people wrapping around taxi pickup area. Bucciarati stopped for a second at the end of the line, but Mista walked angrily past him, muttering something about rather dying than waiting in a line with a bunch of fucking tourist. Bucciarati sighed and followed, looking for someone he could maybe convince to drive them home.

"Mista, we'll have to wait in line anyway. Let's not waste anymore time."

"I'm not waiting for in that long ass-"

"I could drive you two if you wanted."

They both turned around to see a donut haired blond boy approaching them. Mista left his mouth open for a second, taking a moment before he told the kid off to appreciate the pure strangeness of his hair.

"We don't need a ride from you. I bet you're one of Luca's dudes that hangs around here, over charges desperate tourist, steals their stuff."

"No, no, I would never work for Luca."

"But you're going to steal our stuff?"

"What's your name?"

"Bucciarati, ignore him. It's a scam."

"Giorno Giovanna."

"Why are you doing this? You look like you should be in school."

"I'm old enough to drive, and I need money for my apartment."

"You don't live with your parents?"

"No..." Bruno gave the kid the saddest look that kind of freaked him out, but Mista knew what was happening already. "So it might be a little more expensive to get a ride from me, but I can see you're from around here, so I'll-"

"Do you need a place to stay?"

"What?"

"Bucciarati, no. You're not bringing in another random kid to live with us. There's too many of us already. You're not the world's mom."

"This poor kid is living without his parents at an age where he should be going to school and has to drive people around at the airport just to make a living. I can't just leave him."

"Yes, you can. I don't want the whole city in our apartment."

"He wouldn't have to live with us. He could just work in the restaurant with the rest of us. It would be better work. I'd be able to make sure he was okay."

"What's wrong with you?"

"I actually care unlike the rest of you. I know he's just some dude we met at the airport, but I know a face in need when I see one. That's how I met you and the rest of us. I didn't know any of you well but took a chance and look at how great-"

"Nice speech, but you might wanna hurry up 'cause he's trying to run away."

Bruno looked over to see Giorno already in his car, shoving in the key as fast as possible, but this only made Bruno more determined. He grabbed onto Mista, called Sticky Fingers, and zipped themselves inside of the car.

"What the-"

"I understand what you overheard might have been strange, but I want to assure you that it wasn't meant to scare you. I'll leave you alone, but could you please drive me and Mista?" He spoke calmly, as if he didn't make ask a complete stranger to live with him not even a few minutes ago.

"What the fuck is that?" Bruno looked confused. "The thing that's sitting next to you and that got you into the car."

"You can see my stand?"

"If that's a stand, then yes."

"Do you have something similar, that nobody else can see, that does strange things?"

Gold experience appeared in the passenger seat next to Giorno. "Like this?"

Mista pulled at his gun and aimed it at the boy. "How did you get a stand? Who gave it to you?"

Giorno didn't flinch at the gun and instead moved closer to it, looking Mista straight in the eyes. "Nobody. It showed up on its own a few years ago."

Mista leaned over to Bruno with his gun still pointing at Giorno's head. "Is that even possible?"

"I've heard that it's rare, but stands don't always come from the arrow."

"What are the chances though? This dude doesn't seem too phased by most of this stuff. He could know who we are."

"Why would he show his stand then?"

"I don't know. To make us lower our guard?"

"He probably could've-"

"If you're going to have a full conversation could you not point your gun at me?"

Mista glance over at Bruno who nodded and then slowly lower his gun. They sat there in an awkward silence for a few moments, sweating, before Bruno began speaking. "This changes things. You don't seem to know what stands are or how to use them, you have little money, and you're what 16?"

"15."

"That's it. That age alone means you need help."

"I really don't."

"Listen to him."

"Would you like to come work at my restaurant? We'd pay you more than you make ripping off a few tourist."

Giorno sat in silence contemplating the offer. This dude was really weird, but he didn't seem creepy. Giorno doubted he could really make money at the restaurant, but he could learn more about stands and that might be his only opportunity.

"Will there be free pizza?"

"Lots."

"I'll do it."

Mista sat in the back of the car, blankly staring, horrified at his friend's mom skills and about the new dude's ability to be convinced so easily.

The next morning Bruno rounded up everyone to the center of the closed restaurant while Mista slinked off in the corner somewhere.

"Today someone new will be joining us. He's a stand user but doesn't know much about what they are really. Our meeting was somewhat strange yesterday, so he probably won't be too comfortable here for a while. Be nice."

"I already have enough idiots to watch over. Fire him."

"I agree with Abbachio," Fugo said.

"Fire Fugo while you're at it."

"What the hell dude? I thought we were friends."

"You're annoying and never get any work down."

"That's because I'm fixing all of Narancia's messes. He drops something every five minutes, so I have to follow him around catching food and plates and stop him from beating up the customers."

"Fire Narancia too then."

"Fugo if you just got me fired I'll-"

The door opened, shutting them up and in walked the new member. The glares from the gang examined him at the same time they tried to scare him off with only Bruno having a nice smile across his face. Their unwelcoming faces actually made Giorno feel better about all this. Good, he thought, I won't have to try and put on a happy front.

"Hi, I'm Giorno Giovanna."

"Your name is Giorno? Like buon giorno?"

"Yeah..."

"I'm not calling you that."

"Cool. I'll call you bitch then."

"Alright, fucker."

"Giorno, this is Abbachio." Bruno nervously tried to diffuse the tension. "That's Fugo, Narancia, and you remember Mista from yesterday."

"It would be kind of weird to call him that now that I think about it. We could call him Gio?" Mista said.

"That's kind of boring. I don't want to call him that either..." Narancia leaned his head against his hand in deep thought for a while. "Ah! What about GioGio?"

"I can work with that. I actually kind of like that."

"It's the beginning of his first and last names."

"That's kind of cool."

"I've been here for 2 minutes, and you've changed my name?"

"C'mon GioGio, you have to admit it is a better name." Bruno was surprised that Fugo was now agreeing with them. Mista swooped in from the corner and put his hand on Giorno's shoulder, making him groan slightly.

"GioGio, for the first few weeks you'll be doing 'Narancia Work.' You'll be taking out the trash, cleaning the bathroom, doing whatever jobs we don't want to do." Giorno stared blankly as Mista explained and contemplated leaving now.

"Sweet! I can finally become a waiter again."

"I'm afraid we can't let you do that, Narancia. Just being the busboy and janitor causes us enough damage, so you're going to focus on a new project this week. Also you can't read or write."

"What do you mean? I read magazines all the time, and Fugo says my writing is better than my math."

"That's how shitty your math is, not how good your writing is. Most things you write down aren't even in a human language. The only thing preventing me from killing you is some little part of my brain telling me that your writing is something so intelligent the rest of us can't possibly understand, but deep down, I know it's complete shit."

"What am I going to be doing for the next few weeks then?"

"Teaching GioGio to do Narancia Work." There was a moment of awkward silence before Bruno started to inch backwards towards the door.

"Okay, I'm going to trust that you all won't try to kill GioGio-"

"You too?"

"Sorry. It does have a nice ring to it... I have to go see Polpo. I'll open the restaurant on the way out. Don't do anything stupid."

As soon as Bucciarati turned around, the gang began to enclose Giorno, each making their own plan to mess with him. Abbachio planned on seriously harming him or making him disappear forever in a way that Bucciarati wouldn't suspect, but the rest planned something much more funny than anything. Giorno sighed and accepted that if he wanted to do what he set out to, he was going to have to accept his new life as 'GioGio'.


	2. Chapter 2

"The gang tries to kill Giorno"

Despite the strange introduction to the group, the first few days of his new job as a janitor of the crappy restaurant/bar Polpo's Pub had gone by without much incident. Abbachio pretended that he didn't exist, Narancia quickly developed a superiority complex, Fugo almost, almost stabbed him, and Mista had acted normal so far, but he was the one by far that Giorno suspected the most of having an ulterior motive and would attempt to screw him over.

"GioGio, you can't be on break. You gotta set the rat traps in the attic," Narancia cried holding a bucket full of half broken rat traps.

"There's an attic in this place?"

"Where do you think I go at 1 every day?"

"Lunch, home, outside, shopping, really anywhere else."

"No. There is only one thing holding this restaurant together, and that's the timely resetting of the rat traps. If you ever forget, this whole place could be eaten entirely by rats within the hour."

Giorno looked over at Fugo. "Is he serious?"

"100%. Those rats could destroy everything we've ever worked for, and every second you spend down here complaining brings me closer to beating the shit out of you."

Giorno sighed. "Alright, how do I get to the attic?"

"You see that vent over there?"

"The one small one in the corner?"

"Yeah."

"Then yes."

"You have to crawl through it. I've made a map of where to go from there."

"There isn't like a door or something easier to get to it?"

"This's the only way that I've ever found." Narancia stared intensely at him, and as much as Giorno felt like walking out and never coming back, he decided to never show a sign of weakness early on. Any challange had to be met with full, unwavering certainty or these people would never teach him anything or reveal whatever secret they had done such a poor job of keeping so far. Clearly these meetings Bucciarati was taking and the shit they were talking about in the car wasn't just some restaurant business. Turning off his brain, he grabbed the map and traps, walked over to the vent, pulled off the covering, and stuffed himself inside.

"Did he actually go into the vent?" Fugo put down his sandwich and stared at the corner the newbie disappeared into.

"Wait, he did it?" Mista came running in from the kitchen, huffing.

"Yeah, he took my map and traps and jumped into it."

"What was on that map anyway?"

"It's a real map of the vents, but it doesn't lead to the attic. It leads to my- Oh shit. I need to stop him."

"Wait, Narancia. I don't think he'll be able to figure that out. He'll be trapped in the vents like we planned earlier, lost and helpless."

"Are you sure? I have some pretty important stuff in there."

"He's not going to be able to find the damn room, Narancia!" Fugo yelled.

"Wait, how do you know about my room?"

"You talk about it all the time, idiot. Mista, get Abbacchio. He's the one who started this whole thing anyway."

Giorno had only been in the vents for a few minutes but had already determined that he was completely lost. He pushed the rat traps slowly forward, followed by dragging his own body through the metal grossness, making a harsh scratching noise that reminded him of getting stuck on those metal slides as a kid. Everyone always laughed at him. Laughed at his pain, but one day he knew he would get them back. He had a dream. Yes. That's all he needed. He looked back down at the paper, glaring intensely for several seconds before the corners of his mouth started to pull into a smile and a laugh crept out.

"I'm so stupid," he mumbled to himself between his laughs. "Gold Experience!" The golden stand appeared next to him and struck the piece of paper, turning it into a ladybug. "Take me to the room you came from." He smiled as he watched the bug fly off in with intensity and purpose. "I, Giorno Giovanna, have a dream!" He took off with a new found confidence, banging against the sides of the vent with every arm movement, but he knew this was his time.

"Did you guys hear something?" Narancia wondered closer to the wall, turning his head so his ear was almost right up against it.

"Like what?" Fugo called.

"I think I heard GioGio say something."

Everyone shook their heads and went back to preparing, but Narancia was afraid. He's close I'm sure, he thought. I know how echoes would sound anywhere in those vents, and if he turns right and goes crawls for another few seconds, he'll find my room.

"Alright let's do this."

"Narancia, we're ready for you." Fugo looked around. "Narancia? Where are you?" Mista and Fugo started to search around the restaurant, calling out his name.

"He went into the vents." Both of them turned around to see Moody Blues as Narancia frantically diving head first into the vent at top speed, making a shit ton of noise that they somehow drowned out when it actually happened to them. "Should we gas both of them?"

For a second Mista looked down thoughtfully, then slowly started nodding his head. "Yeah, Narancia can handle it without much fight. He told me that he knew he was going to be okay living on the streets because he used to eat garbage for fun as a kid. I've been adding car oil and shit to random bits of his food for the past few months to see if he'd notice and so far nothing."

"He deserves it," Fugo agreed, grabbing the container of gas and the hose. "Here goes nothing." He put the hose in the vent and started the gas. They all three stood there smiling for a second, chuckling, but then they started to feel a little woozy. Falling forward, Mista put his hand on the table to catch himself and the entire weight of his body came along. His knees buckled, but he managed to stay upright, still smiling at Fugo and Abbacchio.

"Why did we put gas in the vents?" Mista asked.

"What do you mean? We're trying to torture GioGio," Fugo said.

"Yeah, but the vents also give us air, so we're gassed now too, right?" Fugo sat in silence for a second before collapsing to the tile floor and proceeding to slowly bang his head against it. "You've got some magical IQ, and you didn't think about circulation."

"I just got distracted. We'd planned to gas just GioGio in the sealed room filled with bed bugs, but since Narancia got in there, I think I got a little too angry. I thought the plan was ruined and wasn't thinking, so-"

"Dude, I don't care. Just apologize."

"I'm," Fugo's strained breathing began to take over, "sorry."

"Apology not accepted dipshit," Abbacchio barely got out. "I didn't sign up for this. I'm gonna kick your ass after I wake up. You and fucking GioGio." With that Abbacchio fell face first onto the ground without letting a single grunt escape him. Mista watched Abbacchio's seemingly painless and immediate demise wondering what the hell was wrong with all of his friends. Well, he thought, I don't think I can ever make any new ones, and then passed out. Fugo lied awake for a few more seconds wondering why he gassed the entire restaurant, why he didn't follow the plan, and most importantly, why neither of his friends stopped him. Their dumbness is wearing off on me, he thought.

As Giorno followed the ladybug through the maze of vents for less than a minute before seeing it fly through a little opening in the sides. He was here. Lifting the vent cover slowly up, he tried to peer into the rat infested room he was supposed to be taking care of, seeing the unfinished walls and some strange shape in the corner before falling from the opening on the side of the wall to the ground.

"Ow..." The bucket of rat traps had landed on top of him and flew out all over the room, including but not limited to his hair, his arms, and scarily close to his crotch and started snapping shut. His beautiful donut hair now had a rat trap clipped on the side, his clothes had also accumulated some, and... He panicked and felt around his pants. Good, he was okay. He spread himself out like a starfish, panting, letting himself take one moment before getting back to his Narancia work, but his peace was interrupted by sounds of metallic clashing and popping coming from above. Lifting his head, he glanced around the room and didn't see anybody, but he did see a board. He propped himself up to get a better view. He couldn't make the whole thing out, but it was filled with strange symbols, pictures of Bruno and everyone, and red yarn connecting the whole thing. Odd, but what really struck Giorno was the a giant section marked 'Nightcrawlers' and the strange pictures of Narancia crawling around while completely zipped inside a sleeping bag. He kind of looked like one of those over exaggerated cartoon caterpillars. Giorno wanted to see more. He needed to see more, but as he tried to stand up, Narancia came crashing through the ceiling landing directly on top of him.

"Fuck. Narancia, what the hell?"

"I knew you would find it. Those bastards tried to convince me that you were just going to be lost the whole time, but I knew it." Narancia held Giorno down by the throat, practically foaming at the mouth. "I don't know if I can allow you to leave this room."

"What're talking about? I'm sorry all the rats aren't dead yet, but I just got here."

"Don't play dumb. I know you saw it."

"You sent me in here to kill the rats, so let me do my job. I thought you didn't want to do this work, so get-"

"Nightcrawlers!" Giorno stopped and made full eye contact with Narancia. They looked at each other for what would be considered years in terms of staring, Giorno giving his best determined, unwavering glare while Narancia examined every facial movement.

"I can't take it!" Giorno screamed, using his stand to force Narancia off. "What is it?!" He made a dash towards the board.

"I knew it." Narancia tackled Giorno back to the ground, struggling to hold his wiggling body. They frantically flopped on the floor, fighting with every bit of strength they had when Giorno started to go limp. "I've got you." Narancia flipped him over and drew his fist back, but suddenly he couldn't hold himself up either. "I-I'll... g-get you... GioGio..." With that, Narancia passed out face first on top of Giorno.

"Guys, I'm back." Bucciarati strolled in through the door of his lovely little restaurant, smiling as he heard the little bell chime throughout the place letting his friends know he was back except none of his friends came to greet him. His face fell, and calling out his stand, he went deeper into the restaurant, minding every step he took. He'd been around the whole kitchen before coming to the furthest and dirtiest corner of the place, seeing the now empty container of gas with its hose leading into the vents, and Mista, Fugo, and Abbacchio all passed out around it. This wasn't the work of an enemy stand. This was the reason why Bruno had taken them all in.

A few hours later, in that dingy corner, Mista, Fugo, Abbacchio, Narancia, and Giorno all were sprawled out on the floor, turned on their sides. Bucciarati sat the table near them, reading a book, sipping tea, and generally ignoring the pile of bodies next to him.

"Mmm..." Bucciarati glanced over to see Giorno pushing himself up and grunting.

"GioGio, I'm glad to see that you're awake."

"What happened?" Giorno was sitting all the way up, rubbing his eyes now and discovering the bodies that lie around him.

"I was hoping you could tell me that." Giorno sat in thought for a second and opening his mouth to say something, but the sound of grunting coming from around him stopped him.

"GioGio!" Narancia screamed, lunging towards his throat, getting only inches away when he stopped himself in mid air. "Wait. Why am I mad at you?"

"Shut up." This time it was Mista waking up, but Fugo and Abbacchio followed seconds after with similar mutterings of their own.

"Great. Now that we're all awake, can one of you explain to me why I came back to find an empty container of gas and everyone passed out?" Everyone turned towards Bucciarati with wide blurry eyes and thought deeply for a second.

"We were planning to get the new kid locked in a room and gas him, but I don't remember ever doing it," Abbacchio said.

"I don't remember either, but I feel like Fugo did something stupid..." Mista said.

"Why would I be the one to mess the plan up. I'm the smartest out of all of you."

"In terms of book smarts, yes, but I've always thought that my intellect in the streets was unmatched."

"You know that's a lie. And I'm the one who taught you what the word intellect means."

"Another example of a word that people of the streets don't need to know, proving-"

"Yeah, nobody cares." Bruno took control again. "Giorno, Narancia, do you remember why you were in the vents?"

"Vaguely... I think they told me they needed to kill rats in the attic, and the only way I could get there was through the vents. Then I went inside and was crawling around for a while, but I don't think I ever found the room."

"Yes!" Everyone looked at Narancia for a second. "I was afraid that you were going to find my secret room. If you did, I'm not sure what I would've done to you. Maybe killed you." Everyone started laughing except Bruno, but they didn't seem to notice. They all got up and started chatting away like usual, and Bruno wanted to stop them, but he saw that this time Giorno was being included, like a real friend. He finally did it. He finally got Giorno excepted into the gang, and it only took one murder attempt.


	3. Chapter 3

"The Gang has a Sleepover Part 1"

"Dudes, you look terrible what happened to you all?"

"We got kicked out our apartment this morning. The whole building's being fumigated, but I forgot that we had to be out by 8 am, so we got a pretty rude awakening. Barely got our stuff. We can't go back for the next two nights, and I didn't find a place to stay beforehand."

"You, Mista, and Abbacchio could stay with me and Narancia. I mean the apartment's a little bit rough, but we got space."

"What about GioGio?" Narancia said.

"What about him?"

"If we're gonna have a big sleepover, we should invite him too."

"This isn't a sleepover. They just need somewhere to stay."

"We're having a big sleepover for two days?" Mista walked in from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm thinking at GioGio's."

"No, they're staying at our place we aren't going over to GioGio's."

Giorno was lying on his bed, comfortable for the night when he heard knocking coming for his door. He looked up at the door, then back down at his book and did this for a little before deciding to ignore it. Again knocking, but he ignored it. Then came the incessant pounding on the door that threatened to knock the damn thing in.

"I'm coming. I'm coming," he called and walked over, going through the list of possible neighbors that might've wanted to beat the shit out of him before angrily opening the door.

"What took so long GioGio? I was about to knock down the door." Mista pushed past him with a sleeping bag followed by the rest of the gang continuing some strange conversation, but Bruno stopped by the door.

"Sorry about this. Mista, Abbacchio, and I can't stay in our apartment for two days, and Narancia convinced everyone to come over here for a sleepover."

"Your apartment's small as shit, dude. How do you live here?" Mista asked while slamming onto Giorno's bed and making himself comfortable. Then came the resounding agreement from the rest of the group members each giving their own take on how small his apartment was.

"What did you except? I'm a 15 year old living without parents working as a janitor in Naples. I thought I was doing pretty well for myself." They ignored him.

"This apartment building's also pretty shit. I think the dude we saw passed out on the stairs was high on coke. The whole building smells like coke." Mista said.

"Now that I think about it, maybe we shoulda helped that dude," Narancia said.

"We probably would've made it worse. This is the kind of building where you don't want the cops to come around. It's not like they would do anything anyway, right Abbacchio?" Fugo's question only got a grunt as a response causing Fugo to smile wide.

"We'll have two large sausage pizzas, and," Giorno turned around to see Bucciarati on the phone, pulling it away from his face for a second. "Does anyone want anything else?"

"Orange soda," Narancia called.

"And a 2 liter of orange soda. When should it be here? Great."

Giorno watched as Fugo and Narancia started moving his furniture, Mista took over his bed, and Abbacchio and Bucciarati started a deep conversation about the Rolling Stones in the corner and wondered if he could leave. His eyes drifted over to the door. No one was watching him. They are the only friends I have, he thought, and I do like them, but this might be too much for me. I don't have to be gone all night anyway. Just a little while for them to settle in. Yeah, that'll-

"GioGio. GioGio. GIOGIO." Mista was screaming at him. "Does anyone remember this dude's real name? Hey, Gio-"

"It's Giorno, and what do you want?"

"Okay, calm down. That was a little rude, but whatever, I guess." Giorno glared at him. "Come over here." Mista furiously patted the seat next to him on the bed. "Come here." Giorno dragged his body over and taking a look around at the expectant faces around him, sat down without a fight.

"Why did you want me?"

"We have this tradition where whenever we get a new group member, we make them tell us their life story," Mista said excitedly.

"Yeah, I mean we'll tell you our's afterward, but the newbie always has to go first." The confirmation from Narancia didn't make this any better.

"Why?"

"The type of people that usually enter this group don't usually have the best lives and aren't open to talking about it, so we decided to do this way back when, so we would always know who everyone was without it coming up more than once and without emotional baggage." Bucciarati smiled at Giorno encouragingly, a look that he knew he couldn't refuse. Giorno felt genuine fear but swallowed it.

"Isn't it a bit soon for this? It's only been a little over a month."

"Usually we do them earlier." Giorno stared at Abbacchio. "But we thought you were a bit too weak for it, so we waited." Giorno clenched his fist, ready to scream but refused to be defeated. Fine, he would tell them.

"Fine. I don't know if all of this is true because my whore of a mother lies half the time, but in this case, I'll believe her. She told me variations of this story every time she's gotten mad at me since I was 4, and they've all been pretty consistent. My mom's only goal in life is to party, and that's all she's ever done. My mom only knew my dad for three days. Long enough to get pregnant and get one picture of him. To this day I have no idea what the man's name is. She doesn't remember. It's not written on the picture. By the time she realized she was pregnant, she'd been denying it for 5 months and probably excepted whatever baby she might have to die from the sheer volume of alcohol she consumes, but I lived. Once she realized this, she decided to get an abortion, but this wasn't legal in Japan, so she had to-"

"Wait did you say Japan?" Mista interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"Why was your mom in Japan?"

"Because," Giorno spoke very clearly and slowly, "she's Japanese."

"That would mean you're Japanese."

"That is how genetics work. I'm half Japanese and from what she says half British."

Everyone in the gang looked shocked. Giorno sighed and walked over to his nightstand, now shoved in the bathroom, and pulled out an old picture of himself before he turned blond, walked back, and handed it to them. After a few seconds of ogling the picture, they started laughing.

"GioGio, you looked so emo," Narancia laughed.

"It's almost kind of scary," Mista said. Abbacchio agreed.

"Also my real name's Haruno Shobanna."

"Wait, so your Italian name is just whatever words sounded closest to your Japanese name?" Giorno nodded without looking up at the gang. There was a roar of even more laughter.

"Poor, kid. Can't seem to get even one good name," Abbacchio said through his laughs. Giorno say the rest of the group starting to think of insults and knew it was time to move on.

"Can you stop? I was in the middle of telling you how I was a failed abortion." Their laughter died down.

"Gosh, he's just so rude tonight."

"I wonder what's got him so uptight." They became silent.

"Okay, so my mom went to this underground abortion clinic that gave her all these stolen pills and stuck something into her, but I didn't die. No matter how much she wanted to, my mom couldn't get rid of me, so I was born as healthy as can be."

"Ha, I bet you were a dumpster baby," Mista said.

"Actually I was," Giorno actually started to laugh.

"Dude, no way. That's amazing. How sure are you?"

"99% sure. One- it's something my mom would do without hesitation today. Two- I found this article from the right city in the right month and year, but they didn't give out any names. It was a dumpster outside a 7-11, they had found the mom by the time it was published and diagnosed her with post-partum depression, and the baby was returned to her. The story was marketed much happier than it should have been." Mista and Giorno broke out into laughter again while the rest of the gang just kind of stared at them.

"This is kind of sad don't you think," Abbacchio whispered to Fugo.

"Yeah, I mean no doubt this is going to good material in the future, but hearing it for the first time is honestly kind of depressing."

"I once found a dumpster baby," Mista said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was in the trash outside the restaurant. I wanted to use it for my own gain, but it was gone when I came back."

"Oh, I remember that baby," Narancia said. "That was so co-"

"Shut up," Bucciarati said. "GioGio, I'm sorry we've interrupted you so much. Please, get back to your story." Giorno stared blankly at him for a second, blinking slowly, before understanding again.

"Right, so my mom knew at this point in life that she couldn't get rid of me, so she would just leave me at home alone every night for hours on end while she went partying. Honestly, it was a pretty good compromise for us. I wasn't almost dying every day; she could go back to her old life. Anyway, when I was around 4, my mom got married, and we moved to Italy. When I first meet her husband at the wedding, I thought he was going to be nice dude. He took me by the hand, let me take pictures with him and my mom, and for the first time, my mom was nice to me. Then he started to beat the shit out of me every day. At first, he wouldn't do it in front of mom, but after a few months, he didn't care. I sort of hoped that he would start hitting my mom, but he never did. I thought he was an angry drunk, but I think he just really hated me."

"You got any cool scars?" Narancia asked excitedly. Bucciarati was apparently the only one who cared about this poor child's backstory anymore because his glare at Narancia was countered with the intrigued faces of everyone else. Giorno thought for a second, then, smiling, took off his shirt, and showed them his back that was filled with lots of gross white, scared over streaks.

"I don't really know what it looks like back there, but I heard it looks pretty cool."

"It's awesome." Everyone owed and awed over it. Even Bucciarati had to admit it looked pretty cool. Giorno put back on his shirt and turned around, ready to start again.

"The kids at school weren't great either. Back when I had black hair and looked more Japanese I guess, they would call me some racist shit. It was all a little bit off though because they thought I was Chinese. I would've said something, but I didn't necessarily feel anything back then. I lied to these gangsters one day just to try and feel something, but nothing really happened. I got to know this pretty cool dude out of it because I saved his life. He stopped my step dad from beating me, got me free stuff, but the most important thing he did for me was showing me _The Godfather, _the only thing that got me to feel things again_. _It was the most badass thing I'd ever seen, the action, the drama, the tragedy, complex family dynamics like I never knew possible, and from that day on, I knew I wanted to rule the mafia. Then when I was about 13-"

"Wait," Fugo started, "what did you just say?"

"About what?"

"What do you mean about what?"

"Huh?"

"You just said you wanted to become a mob boss."

"What about it?"

"You can't just drop that casually into a conversation."

"Yeah, you're 15. Don't you have better things you want to do with your life?" Bucciarati asked.

"Nah, it's my dream." Everyone stared deeply at Giorno for a long time, each off in their own thoughts about what to do about this kid while he sat there lazily smiling, somewhat proud. "I've never told anyone that."

"That's because people would've thought you were mentally disabled," Abbacchio said.

"Aren't you all a part of the mafia?"

"What? Pshht, no." Everyone's eyes were wide. "Absolutely not. No. No."

"You clearly are. Narancia says something about it every day when we're working and then pretends like he hasn't said anything all day. Mista said something about it the first time I met him. Bucciarati is gone everyday for 'meetings.' Everyone has a stand. Also, there's no way the restaurant would be making enough money to stay in business. Our food is shit, and we barely have any costumers." The gang had their mouths hung open, occasionally moving their jaws around as if they were about to speak.

"We'll... talk about this later. You should get back to your story."

"Back to the story!"

"But-"

"Story. Story. Story."

"Okay, fine. I got my stand when I was about 12 or 13. This is when I really started to make headway in life. I was able to do odd jobs and steal without being noticed or really able to get caught. When I turned 15, I moved out of my mom and step dad's apartment and haven't seen them since. I don't think they noticed."

"Is that it?"

"Yep, pretty much. That's a broad overview of my life."

"Well, alright then."

"Do I get to hear all of your stories?"

"Nah, just watch the show, and you'll see."

"Nani?"


	4. Chapter 4

"The Gang has a Sleepover Part 2: Mista Gets his Dick Sucked"

The next morning Giorno woke up with Mista lying across his chest, Narancia curled up against his arm, and Fugo sitting on the window sill with Abbacchio and Bucciarati cooking something on his hot plate. The conversation was kind of watery to Giorno's fresh ears, but after rubbing his eyes and sitting up a little bit, he had enough focus in him to make something out.

"Can I have some food? I swear I'm not going to do anything weird." Was that Fugo's voice, Giorno wondered.

"No, I know that if you get any closer, you're gonna start your weird OCD routine thing that creeps me out. We put you in the window, so you wouldn't smell anything, so shut up." That's definitely Abbacchio, Giorno decided.

"Well, hurry and wake everybody else up. I want to eat soon."

"I don't know. They need their sleep, and I would feel bad waking GioGio up inside his own apartment."

"Whatever." Fugo looked like he was swaying a lot in that window, but Giorno knew he had pretty bad eyesight in the mornings. Well his eyesight was never really great, but he didn't have all that much money, and glasses were kinda gross. Then Giorno saw a blur of color and heard a loud thunk noise.

"Fugo! Holy shit, Fugo are you okay down there?"

"Come back up here, and we can check you out."

"Fugo, are you okay? Say something. Wait, come back. Don't run away."

"Fugo you fucking idiot, get back here."

"What's going on?" Giorno finally decided to ask.

"Fugo feel out the window, and now he's running away from us."

"Shit." Everyone turned to see Narancia sitting up now with his head leaned into his hands.

"Has this happened before?" Bucciarati asked.

"Yes."

"Does he have amnesia?"

"No, no, nothing that ridiculous. Whenever he hits his head really hard, which happens more than you might think, he remembers how smart he really is and starts thinking that maybe working in a mafia-bar-restaurant-thing isn't that great, and he should go back to college. He's said that one rapey teacher and a bad family shouldn't hold back his potential, but come one, guys, what the hell does that mean? He can't do better than us." Giorno shifted uncomfortably at the end of the speech, but the other two were completely on board, smiling and nodding their heads.

"Alright we got to split up. Narancia, come with me and Abbacchio, and GioGio, wake Mista up."

"Wait, what? Where do I even start look- and you're gone." Giorno looked over at Mista, still attached to him and very much asleep. "I hate sleepovers."

"Where does Fugo normally go when he hits his head?" Bucciarati and company hadn't moved far past Giorno's apartment, looking carefully down every street corner.

"I'm not sure where it is. It's this place with a shiny building and books and uh there was this blond girl there-"

"You don't the name of the place?"

"Well not exactly."

"What type of place was it? Do you remember?"

"A college I think."

"Okay which one?"

"What do you mean?"

"Which university?"

"There's more than one?"

"How do you not know!- no, no it doesn't matter. Just retrace your steps. I don't want the pissy blond boy beating us."

"Abbacchio, be nice. Also I don't know if GioGio will figure out how to wake Mista up."

Giorno had dragged Mista's body next to the staircase, peaked down for a second, nodded, and pushed the body down the stairs. There was a lot of thunking, but no screaming came. In fact, Mista's eyes remained shut, and there was still no movement for a few seconds. By the time Giorno had walked down the stairs in complete defeat, Mista was somehow standing up, perfectly awake.

"What the fuck, dude? I didn't see you get up."

"How did I get here?" Mista looked around with fuzzy eyes.

"Oh, I threw your body down the stairs to wake you up."

"Good call."

"We need to go find Fugo, by the way. He fell out a window and-"

"Yeah, I've helped Narancia with this before. You wanna get a beer first?"

"Of course. I'm really not that invested in this whole thing. Fugo's kind of a dick."

"You know, I've never wanted to say anything, but he totally is. And then Narancia treats him like he's god, only when he's not around of course."

"You think they've ever," Giorno paused for a second, mouth open, scouring for the right words, "fucked?"

"Ew, gross. But 100%, yes."

Abbacchio had lead the group to the closest university to Giorno's apartment, a small place that Narancia said he vaguely remembered, but that piece of information meant literally nothing. Abbacchio was ready for them to split up when Bucciaratti shut him down, something about Narancia needing to be there, but Abbacchio suspected he just wanted to play leader like he always did.

"Hey, I think I've seen that guy before," Narancia called over and pointed at some guy walking alone through the courtyard, almost to the exit, before sprinting towards the man.

"Narancia, slow down. You're gonna scare him."

"Don't listen to Bucciarati. Keep running or he'll get away. And I really don't wanna be looking for cheese boy all day."

"What's wrong with you? People are scared of Narancia already, and you want him to run full speed at some dude he may have meant once and creeped out?"

"There's less chance for the dude to see him the faster he gets over there. Look at him. The guy clearly doesn't expect anyone to start talking to him. He's walking faster than the rest of the people on campus, wearing old, baggy clothes, and his eyes are baggy. He probably almost missed his class and either doesn't want his friends to see him like this or is new and hasn't made friends here yet. He had headphones in, but they weren't attached to anything, another sign that he doesn't want anybody to talk to him, but this also means he isn't expecting anyone to. He won't be checking over his shoulder too often, meaning speed is key."

"Is this the only thing you could do as a cop? Tell if people were late to class or didn't want to be bothered?"

"Oh, every time I do something cool it's always the reason why I failed as a cop. At least I had a job before this. Something to give up on while you and the rest of those idiots had nothing in the first place."

"Was it really all that better? You got crap pay and gave up within 2 months. Your dream, the one thing you wanted for your whole life, you gave up on after 2 months."

"You never even had a dream."

"What are you, GioGio?"

"Don't compare me to the fucking idiot! My dream was something logical and pure-"

"It's the exact same thing."

"How? His is to be a mafia boss to improve his community because he saw the Godfather and thought it was cool but had some moral dilemmas. I wanted to help my community through a legal pathway because of my strong sense of justice."

"I know your dream started with Lethal Weapon. Don't lie to me Abbacchio. As the group leader, I know every part of the group's lives. I go over every detail to make sure everyone is living their best lives, and if that means 'stalking' what could be considered my adopted children, then so be it."

"What?" Abbacchio had gone from red faced to white as a sheet.

"It was a joke. It's just a joke. I don't really-" Bucciarati stumbled around as Abbacchio's eyes pierced through him. Luckily Narancia showed back up, panting.

"I know where he is. That guy said that he's at the train station, and he's going to a university in Rome. We need to get there fast if we want to stop him. I think he's been losing it for a while know by what that guy said to me. He 's been going to a lot of classes and-"

"Who the hell are you talking about, Narancia?" Abbacchio's voice almost echoed.

"Fugo."

"Oh. Let's go get him I guess."

Giorno and Mista had been sitting outside, sipping beers, talking, watching the crackheads have a dance for about an hour when they decided it was time to go help in the search for cheese boy.

"Are you sure you want to do this? We could just say that we looked around and didn't find him, and no one would question us."

"I'm trying to do kind of well in this group, and if that means finding Fugo, then I'm gonna do that."

"I don't think you care that much."

"What makes you say that? I rejoiced when I found out that you all were actually apart of the mafia, and in a way, so was I."

"I don't think you would've wasted over an hour mourning drinking if you did care."

"Whatever, let's just do this. Do you know where he would be?"

"He's always so angry, so maybe we should follow the sounds of any screaming, see if he's attacking anybody."

Giorno stopped for a second, his face scrunched up, probably realizing how stupid that was, trying to regain any part of desire to do well. "That sounds awesome."

It wasn't long before they heard the sound of screaming and ran down the alley to see a man with white-blue hair and crazy glasses, screaming at a lady.

"Why would I ever want to go on a second date with you? Only an idiot would think that Abbey Road was better than the White Album. If anything, this is a sign of retardation-"

"Dude, Abbey Road is so much better than the White Album," Mista said calmly.

"What?"

"Overall, Abbey Road's much more cohesive, more iconic, better music as a whole while the White Album has some of the Beatle's best songs, yes, but has a lot of trash on it too. What the fuck is most of the second disc? If they consolidated-"

"That's it! Get ready to have your ass beat. White Album." The man's whole body became covered in a white speed skating suit, and he started throwing ice at Mista who dodged before pulling out his gun.

"Sex Pistols," he called his stand.

"I should expect trash opinions from a man with a trash stand name."

"Oh, it's on bitch."

Giorno watched for a while as Mista's bullets got deflected towards him several times, each time with Mista becoming more determined to shoot the man again. Shot after shot, Giorno stared, pulling out a beer and sipping it, but when he saw the bullet heading for Mista's head, he butted in and turned the street around the strange man into and tree that kept growing and growing till his annoying screams couldn't be heard.

"Why didn't you do anything earlier, dude? I'm bleeding to death."

"Calm down I can heal you."

"What?"

"This is gonna hurt."

Narancia, Abbacchio, and Bucciarati had managed to push past all of the train station attendants to see Fugo, standing in front of the train about to board.

"Fugo, it's me! Remember. Oh shit, it doesn't look like he's remembering anything. You aren't good enough for other things. You're smart, but your life was shit, so come back to Polpo's Pup. Come back. Remember."

"Stop screaming, Narancia. I remember everything, and I have this whole time."

"No, you see, there you go again."

"What's happening?" Bucciarati asked.

"When I tried to tell Narancia I was going back to college, he couldn't handle it, so I made this whole thing up, so it looked like I was forgetting some of the time we spent together and developed a superiority complex. Then he would find me and 'fix' me. I made it more elaborate as I went to lead up to a situation where he wouldn't question me leaving without a trace. I was just waiting for someone to fill my shoes, and it was kind of set in stone with GioGio last night, and the window was so perfect that I decided to do it then."

"So you've been faking losing your mind to Narancia for the past few months-"

"Yearish." He was met with several disturbed faces.

"Just so you could leave without saying goodbye, and nobody would question it."

"Pretty much."

They walked outside silently and looked across the river for a while without saying a word. Narancia stared deep into the water for a while before looking up, setting his chin on top on the railing and seeing something strange in the distance. It looked like GioGio and Mista. Yeah, Mista was lying on a bench, squirming and yelling while GioGio was next to his...

"Abbacchio, Bucciarati, look. GioGio suckings Mista's dick!" Narancia pointed furiously across the water, jumping up and down, laughing. They looked out across the water, focusing on the bench, then starting to laugh.

"You have such a strange imagination, Narancia."

Mista and Giorno sat relaxing in silence on the bench after the healing session. Mista in pain, and Giorno tired from the energy it cost him to heal so many bullet holes.

"You know, for a while, I thought you were gonna do something weird with my dick." Giorno looked at him, eyebrows scrunched together. "I mean you put your head right next to it, and your hands were really close sometimes."

"I think you're reading into this. You were the one making all the sex noises."

"I was in pain. Am I supposed to be quiet?"

"You were moaning. Loudly."

"It wasn't a moan. I was just- It was just... Anyway why would you put your head there?"

"I didn't want to. You were moving around so much, and it was the easiest place to hold you down."

"I guess that makes sense..." Mista said after a few seconds.

"But I always had the feeling you were into me, so I'm not surprised you thought-"

"I'm not into you. I'm into chicks, dude. Nothing else. Just chicks."

"Oh, I gotcha." Giorno winked. Mista turned red and was prepared to defend himself when the rest of the gang showed up.

"Did you find Fugo?"

"Yeah. Apparently he's been faking these things for almost a year, so he could leave in peace. We weren't ever supposed to know."

Mista looked across the river, blankly and said, "Bye-bye cheeseboy."

Everyone repeated: "Bye-bye cheeseboy."


	5. Chapter 5

"Giorno Gets Deported"

"GioGio, you've been ignoring these letters from the government for too long. Open them." Bucciarati had only just opened the door to get into the bar and interrupted Giorno, Mista, and Narancia's conversation, holding out four pieces of unopened mail. "Why are you drinking? You just turned 16, and it's only 1." He ripped the bottle away from him.

"Hey-" Bucciarati shoved the mail in Giorno's face. "How did you get a hold of this?"

"How do you think? I check on everybody in the group. I just didn't know where you lived before so I couldn't, but now that you moved in with Narancia, I do it ever two days."

"You go through our shit?" Narancia asked.

"Your lives don't just fall into place by themselves."

"Dude, that's super creepy," Mista joined in.

"If you pay attention, he mentions it every now and then. I don't know why you all are so surprised." Abbacchio came out of the kitchen shoving a plate onto the bar and sitting down.

"That makes it worse. You feel like you can casually bring up invading our privacy without it seeming weird-"

"Open the letter GioGio. It's serious."

"Wow, you can't just cut me off. This is a serious, and you know me. I'll talk to my stand while someone is waiting to kill me during a fight. I haven't done any work here in years. I'll start a fight with people over movies and music but not politics or-"

"It's been nice knowing you all," Giorno interrupted Mista's monologue.

"What?"

"I'm being deported."

A week later and Giorno was sitting at his trail, ready to emancipate himself from his now divorced mom who was to return to Japan as well as defend his citizenship. The only problem was he didn't have a proper lawyer... he only had his coworkers. Bucciarati sat in what was supposed to be the lawyer's chair with Abbacchio next to him. Mista and Narancia sat behind him, occasionally whispering to him, making Giorno's jaw twitch every time he had to look at their half nervous half smiling faces.

"Alright. Today's case Haruno Shobanna v.," Mista and Narancia started quietly laughing at the mention of his name, "wait this's a mother v. son case?"

"Yes, sir," Giorno said. "I'm asking for emancipation. Also my name is Giorno Giovanna here."

"What do you mean?"

"Haruno Shobanna," more louder laughter, "was my name in Japan, but my official name here is Giorno Giovanna."

"I don't see the issue."

"Well if you try to put something in place for Haruno Shobanna-" this time the laughing was so loud and noticeable that the whole court room looked at them as they took a few seconds to quiet down. Giorno twisted his body all the way around to glare at them until they shut up and went back to their whispering. "So, you won't find anyone with that name here. My mom must've put the wrong name down. My legal name here is Giorno, and that's what I need everything done in." The judge only shrugged, marking something down on his paper.

The first person called to the stand was of course Giorno. Bucciarati stood up with his hand pressed up against his normal white weird ass suit as if to adjust a nonexistent tie before moving freely throughout the room.

"Giorno, how long have you been living without your mother and step father?"

"About a year."

"And they never came looking for you?"

"I'm not sure they really noticed I left."

"And why did you leave?"

"Mom neglected me. My stepdad beat me when I was a kid. I just wanted out of there as soon as possible." Giorno said this all with a straight face, no trace of hidden pain or traumatized kid that needs help, really kind of bored, but Bucciarati still clenched his fist, and Giorno saw the look forming on his face. "It stopped when-"

"How could anyone do such things to their son? How could any court let him continue to be controlled by people who tortured him? How could-"

"Get back to questioning the brat," Abbacchio said, putting a stop to Bucciarati's yelling. The judge gave a confused expression as Bucciarati seemed to remember himself from this statement and continue on.

"Nothing further, your honor."

The other lawyer stood up revealing Giorno's sleeping mom but his large and loud hand movements seemed to distract the rest of the court instantly. "This all sounds very sweet, but you don't look like someone who's actually been through this. Do you have any proof that your stepdad beat you or your mom neglected you?"

"Do you want me to take my shirt off?"

"...what?"

"You can see the scars from where he hit me on my back, but that really wouldn't be too conclusive." Abbacchio muttered something about how he shouldn't have said the last part kind of loudly.

"You said it yourself. It wouldn't help. Those could be from anything. Do you have any concrete evidence?"

"The witnesses." Everyone stared blankly at Giorno for a second, the lawyer not knowing how to respond. "I could describe it if you wanted, but that isn't concrete."

"Go ahead."

Giorno went on to give a horrific description of his daily life from ages 4-12 that slowly wiped the smirk off the lawyers face, all of course said without any emotion. Everyone in the court shifted uncomfortably in their chairs by the end of it as the lawyer mutter signaling the end of his questioning. Everyone except his friends who suppressed laughs throughout. People must've thought they were horrible people with no compassion, which wasn't exactly wrong.

"Next witness: Mrs. Shobanna." Giorno's mom rose from her slumber to sit dazed and confused at the stand.

"Mrs. Shobanna," Bucciarati said, "would you like to refute anything that's been said so far?"

"No."

"No?"

"No. Most of this was done by my now ex-husband, so I shouldn't be blamed for it. I don't see why I'm here anyway. He already lived alone without anyone caring, so why do I have to be here now? Why does he even want to make it official?"

"To no longer be connected to you or have to live with your bad decisions."

"He should have to. I raised him despite wishing he was never born even single day."

"I didn't think it would hurt to hear, but it does," Giorno whispered to himself.

"Is this why you won't let him be free? To give him pain?"

"No. I just want him to understand me better."

"He seems to only be understanding your pain." He stood their silently for a second.

"Was that a question?"

"Huh? No. Nothing further."

As Bucciarati sat down, Abbacchio and Giorno looked over a Bucciarati annoyed, waiting for him to lean in before Abbacchio said, "Why didn't you ask her about the neglect?"

"Why would I? We already heard it from GioGio, and she didn't even defend herself."

"But you could have made her seem immoral or something. You just left my mom up there with some questionable actions, but nothing horrible." Buccciarti just strugged.

"I'll do better next time."

"Next time?"

"Now that your divorced, Giorno will have a good environment to live in without the threat of violence and plenty of room for his growth, right?" The real lawyer asked.

"I guess. I don't really want him to-"

"You see everyone. Giorno's been driving taxies for most of the year without going to school. Only recently did he get a steady job at a restaurant where he still can't find the time for school, but he deserves more. And his mom can offer him that more." Giorno's mom looked annoyed at being cut off, but she pulled herself back into her chair and slouched down. "Though she's made some mistakes in the past, the fact that she's here shows she wants to connect with her son. Her husband prevented her from making the right choices for her child and her life but-"

"Oh, shut up," Shobanna had snapped. "My life's been great, and my husband's only made it better. Everyone else thinks we're too immature and selfish, but we're having a better time than anyone else in the world. He made my sad life with a child fun again, and I wish he were still here."

"You really mean that, babe?" A man stood up from the audience, pulling down his hood to reveal the face of Giorno's stepdad. Shobanna nodded her head furiously, making her way to the middle of the court where they both met and joined hands.

"It was a mistake to leave you. This trail made me see that, having to deal with my idiot son and all."

They shared statements of love and casually walked out of the room ignoring the beatings of the gavel by the judge.

"I won't be deported if my mom remarries him, right?"

"No, you'll be able to stay."

"Sweet. Then we can throw out this whole case."

"Actually, based on these statements, I don't think you should be allowed near your mother or stepfather again and am granting you your emancipation."

"Wait. Can I still stay in Italy?"

"Normally, yes, but you don't go to mandatory school and spend all your time on a restaurant job. I think sending you back to Japan may be a better option."

"I can't even speak Japanese anymore. I'll die there."

"Next case."

Giorno got what he wanted, but it all backfired for him. As he dismissed his friends to leave him to think, he sadly wandered around the courthouse having no ideas. He'd been there long enough to be granted citizenship. He just needed to take the test and interview which could take months to set up, much longer than what he probably had. Suddenly Mista appeared from behind the pillar.

"I have an idea for how you could stay." Giorno turned around. "You can get your citizenship the right way afterwards."

An hour later Giorno and Mista walked out of the courthouse with a marriage certificate.

"Let's never speak of this," Giorno said.

"Agreed. But when you think about it, what's gay about two cool dudes getting married?"

"Stop talking."


	6. Chapter 6

"Giorno Giovanna: King of the Rats"

"Narancia, that's your fourth bottle of orange juice today. Stop before you drink our entire supply." Mista watched as he continued to chug his bottle, sucking it down even faster.

"I can't. Dude, I haven't felt this thirsty in a long time, and this is my favorite drink and the only shit that makes it go away."

"Have you tried water?"

"No, gross. I'm not going to drink just plain water." The door bell rang and in walked three customers, but they were ignored.

"Don't tell me you never drink water?" Mista stopped whipping the bar to give Narancia a pleading look who bent down to grab more OJ.

"Would I be alive if I didn't?" Mista looked down in shame. "Of course I only drink pure water once every few days when I'm starting to feel sick or sometimes GioGio will force me to, but he has to trick me. He'll tell me it's a drink he got from the trash that was still full of he mixed the leftovers of the customers food together."

"Why does that make it more appealing to you?"

"Trash tastes better than most normal food."

"What the hell is wrong with you? How are you-"

"Shut up!" They turned over to see a tall, muscular, currently angry man sitting in front of them next to one old, crazy looking man and one late teenage dude. All were still menacingly big. Mista and Narancia muttered to themselves for a moment.

"What do you want?" Mista asked, putting aside his irritation for a moment.

"We're looking for someone that we have good authority works here." He pulled out a picture and showed it to them. "Do you recognize him? His name is Haruno Shobanna." Both of them stared deeply into the picture, causing themselves pain by thinking so hard about it.

"No."

"Can't say I know the dude, but that name and hair," Narancia started laughing, "I feel bad for him." One of the three dudes at the bar joined in on the laughter while the other two sat there quietly but annoyed.

"Oh, Abbacchio," Mista called over toward the newly emerged kitchen hermit, "come here and look at this picture. These guys think he comes here or something. Do you know him? His names uh-ummm-"

"Haruno Shobanna," the buffest of them said.

"Yeah, that."

Abbacchio looked like he could murder someone. "Is there nothing in your heads? If I were to crack your head against the wall an look in, would there only be shit?"

"Geez, just tell us who it is."

"Yeah, this is starting to bore me," Narancia added.

"It's the brat," he yelled, causing ohs to ooze out of their mouths. "Fucking idiots." Abbachio started walked away.

"Do you know where he is?"

"In the basement. He's been making a shit ton of noise for a few hours."

"Dude, that's right," Narancia said. "I sent GioGio down there this morning to kill the rats. There were a lot of them last time I checked, and I really didn't wanna do it. I'll go get him." Narancia ran off, starting to scream his name, leaving the rest of them waiting awkwardly staring at each other.

"So, what are your names?"

"I'm Jotaro. That's my grandpa Joseph, and his son Josuke."

"So Josuke's your uncle, huh?" Jotaro looked pissed.

"Yes, I am," Josuke smirked.

"Mista, I can't get GioGio to come upstairs."

"I find calling him Chinese makes him come up faster. He's gets so angry, reminds him of his childhood and all that. Just any insults you can think of work." The group of men stared at Mista in horror and wondered if their mission to save the world from Dio's son might have turned into saving Dio's son from these people.

"He's coming." Narancia ran back over to the bar where they all waited hearing the slow, loud thumps up the stars like something out of a horror movie. Finally the blond boy stepped out from around the corner covered in cuts and blood with tired, traumatized eyes.

"So many rats..." he said. "But I finally figured out what to do. There's too many to kill them. The kill stick would only keep breaking and breaking until they would take over and eat me. I had to become one of them. I had to use my stand to integrate into them, to lead them, become their ruler. I, Giorno Giovanna, am king of the rats." He held up his arms triumphantly before collapsing without moving a muscle straight into the floor.

Mista continued his work at the bar while Narancia went over to the passed out Giorno and began to kick him, commanding him to wake up. The three men at the bar shared a look, wanting to leave desperately but now pitying the man they originally thought they might kill.

"I think I understand what's wrong with you, Narancia." Narancia paused his kicking to look over his shoulder. "Clearly all those rats are diseased or something, and it makes anybody crazy and stupid. I thought GioGio was pretty smart and got himself together alright, as best as a failed abortion can you know, but this might be the end of him. He might revert to you."

"I was stupid a long time before the rats, dude."

"Yeah... maybe it makes you dumber or something."

"I could see that."

"Do you mind if I try to heal him?" Josuke asked. The two looked apprehensive then waved their hands over to Giorno, shrugging. He then walked over to Giorno, took out his stand, and punched him. Across the restaurant, Bucciarati had entered and had started to walk over to check on everything, but instead of finding the usual chaos, he saw a strange man punching an unconscious and bloody Giorno.

"Get the fuck away from him!" Bucciarati ran up and kicked Josuke straight in the face then attempted to climb on top of him before the body had suddenly moved backwards in a blink of an eye and Jotaro stood in between them.

"He wasn't trying to hurt the kid, so calm down." Bucciarati took out his stand causing Jotaro to sigh. "His stand heals people. Look." He turned around seeing a now clean Giorno, sitting up dazed and confused.

"GioGio," Bucciarati pushed passed everyone to get to him, "are you okay? What happened?"

"Rats... I think. It's been a weird day." He received weird stares from the room but focused mainly on the three strangers at the bar. "Who are they?"

"Something Jo I think," Narancia said.

"Joseph, Jotaro, Josuke," Jotaro said pointing at each one of them when the time came. "We need to talk with you. It's about your father."

"If you're looking for my stepdad, he just divorced then remarried my mom and cut off all communication with me."

"No, you're biological father."

"You know who he is?" Jotaro nodded. "How? My mom doesn't even know who the dude is."

"It's hard to explain and won't be important. We just need to talk with you about it if you're okay with that."

"I feel like you wouldn't've come all this way to take no for an answer." Jotaro glared, but Josuke and Joseph laughed.

"No, we wouldn't've," Josuke said.

"Alright. Let's go."

"Wait. You can't just leave in the middle of work," Mista said.

"We left this place empty with no one working here for three hours yesterday. I think I can leave." The three men walked out the door with Giorno following behind them waving maliciously at his friends.

"Bucciarati," Narancia stretched out his name like a whining child, "can we follow them? Please." Narancia looked over to see that he was almost half way out the door. "No way. You aren't going without us. Mista, Abbacchio, hurry up. We're all gonna follow Giorno and the group of weirdos that came in."

The three men took Giorno over to their hotel room. Sitting down, they waited for Giorno to take his own seat, but he instead started looking around the room, eventually finding the remote, throwing himself on the bed, and turning on the TV.

"What are you doing?"

"I haven't had a TV in a long time. My old apartment didn't have one, and Narancia's is broken. The only thing it plays is like this weird static mix thing that he thinks is aliens or something. I don't know. He doesn't ever really turn the thing on anyway, says we should play night crawlers instead."

"We didn't bring you here so you could watch TV."

"Well I didn't want to come here, anyway. I only came because I knew you would make me, and to be honest I really wanted to get out of work. Just tell me whatever's so important. I can listen and watch at the same time."

Jotaro had enough and threw the remote at the screen, breaking the whole thing. Giorno glared deeply but didn't make a sound instead walked over and sat down across from them.

"So you have no idea who your father is?"

"No. My whore mother said he was some muscular Limey or something with a boring ass white name that she didn't bother to remember. She never tried contacting him because she was hoping the abortion would work."

"Too much information," Jotaro said.

"You asked."

"From now on, you can just shut up, okay? I'll take it from here." Giorno nodded. "Your father, well in a sense you have two fathers, their names' were Dio Brando and Jonathan Joestar. Dio had his head cut off, so he took control of Jonathan's body but was trapped underneath the ocean for almost 100 years. Eventually he got out, fucked your mom, and tried to take over the world. My grandpa, some other dudes, and I stopped him. We're here to make sure you aren't a threat. Also you're related to us. In fact, you're my grandpa's uncle." The table was silent for a little while with Giorno looking out the window the whole time.

"So that's it? I can leave now?"

"You don't have any questions or are confused or-"

"Well this all sounds pretty fake if you ask me, but whether it's true or not doesn't matter to me. I don't see how this affects me currently. If you're here to see if I'm evil, nah. I'm not. Are you happy?"

"What? Do you think this is some kind of game? We didn't travel across the world to have some dumb ass kid tell us that he was good and walk out of here. I need you to understand what kind of situation this is, and I need to figure out what kind of a person you are." Jotaro's rant had ended, and he expectedly waited for some kind of understanding from him.

"What if I played this really cool piano solo I've been working on? Would that convince you?"

"Is this like some sort of theme song?" Josuke asked. Giorno pointed at him and nodded. "Like where you feel like you can win any fight when you here it?"

"Dude, that's exactly it."

"I actually developed one of my own."

"Me too," Joseph said standing up. "I think I'd like to hear your's."

"Let's have some sort of jam seession," Josuke said.

"Let's do it," Giorno agreed. They all walked down to the lobby, even Jotaro who had silently agreed, and hijacked the piano down there, each taking turns playing their parts while yelling at anyone who tried to interrupt them. The Joestar family was actually getting along very well for the first time since Morioh, and Giorno knew then that these people weren't just some normal people afraid of being rude to people, they were just as terrible as him and his friends without all the physical abuse, and that's all he ever truly wanted out of a family. Bucciarati and the others watched all their theme song playing from a far.

"I don't know what to say to this. This is just weird," Mista said with Narancia and Abbacchio agreeing.

"Look at how happy GioGio looks," Bucciarati said, holding back tears.

"You wanna go buy some crack?" Narancia asked.

"Oh yeah."

"100%"

"Even I gotta admit that I need crack to unsee this."


End file.
